


Pillow Talk

by Evil_Little_Dog



Series: Little Things [112]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, Community: fma_fic_contest, Curtain Fic, F/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:12:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Some cravings are the worst. <br/>Disclaimer:  Arakawa totally owns all.  I just play in her world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

_“Did you remember to get them?”_

_A sigh. “Yes. Have I ever forgotten before?”_

_“You did that one time.” Not quite teasing._

_“That was one time. Just once.” A finger raised for emphasis. “And I didn’t forget this time.”_

_“Did you get the good ones? The ones with garlic?”_

_“Yes, yes, and yes!”_

_“Can I have one now? Please?”_

_“Geeze, can you wait at all?”_

_“No. Why should I?”_

_“Dinner should be ready soon.”_

_Pouting. “I still want the pickle.”_

_“Fine. I’ll get you the pickle.”_

_“Thanks, Winry, you’re the best.”_

After Winry finished telling him the story, Ed adjusted his head on the pillow so he could give her a fishy look. “You’re kidding. I actually said that?” 

Winry frowned back at him. “Okay, maybe not the ‘Winry, you’re the best.’”

“No, I might’ve said that.” At one point in time, Ed knew he might’ve blushed saying it directly to her, out loud. After sharing her bed, and some particularly long, sexy telephone conversations, and traveling with Heinkel and Darius – not to mention Greed _and_ Ling, he thought he was kind of immune to embarrassment of that sort any more. “But I wanted pickles?” 

“Yes,” Winry said, almost patiently, wriggling a little to find a new, comfortable position. “You always wanted pickles when you were recovering from,” her split-second hesitation wouldn’t have been noticeable to most, “losing your arm and leg. Granny and I had to bribe you with pickles to get you to eat liver and spinach. You’d even make me go out in the rain to get them.” 

Thunder boomed outside as Ed made a face. “Liver.” Spinach wasn’t too bad, with enough vinegar. Or wilted, with bacon. 

“You needed the iron. And,” her tone went prissy, “you’d never drink your milk.” 

His face screwed up even more. “Milk is vile.” 

“Milk contains a lot of nutrients, Ed!” Winry wriggled around so she could glare down her nose at him. 

“It still makes me sick,” he grumbled back at her, showing her a few of his teeth. 

Archly, Winry pointed out, “You eat ice cream.”

“That’s ice cream.” Ed waved his hand at her. “It’s not milk.”

“Oh, please! Ice cream is made from milk and cream!” 

Ed wrinkled his nose. “It’s not the same thing!”

“Just because it’s a step away from milk,” Winry tapped him on his nose, “it doesn’t mean it still _isn’t_ milk.” 

Not about to tell her that ice cream still had the ability to turn his stomach into knots if he ate too much of it, Ed tried to change the subject, at least somewhat. “Cottage cheese,” he said, “now that’s nasty. Curdled milk!” He stuck his tongue out.

“It’s good for you!” 

“It makes me throw up.” Ed gagged for emphasis. 

Winry rolled her eyes. “You eat cheese.” 

“That’s different.” 

“It’s still milk!” 

“Is not! Cheese is good.” Grinning, Ed said, “It’s been transmuted out of vile milk and into something delicious.” 

Tossing her hands up, Winry groaned. “I don’t know why I even bother!” 

“Hey, it’s not like I need to drink milk any more. Or eat liver. I’d rather have sausage, anyway.” Ed grinned as Winry rolled her eyes. “Sausage and potatoes fried together with some onions; that’s pretty good.” 

“Ugh.” Winry shuddered. “All that grease.” 

“That’s where the flavor is.” 

“Oh, Ed.” It was her turn to wince, the corners of her mouth turning down. “Stop. I don’t want to even think about it!”

“But you’ll tease me about drinking milk!” 

“You don’t actually get sick any more! I’m not sure you ever did!” Pressing her fingers against her mouth, Winry burped and excused herself for it, her face taking on a greenish cast. “Uhhh…I need some ginger.” 

Ed reached across to the bedside table, picking up the jar of sugared ginger that Mrs. Hughes had sent after she’d gotten the news they were expecting. _You’ll want this,_ she’d written, and Ed had found out she was right. “Ginger,” he said, passing it to Winry. She popped a few pieces in her mouth and chewed slowly. Ed took a piece too, the sharp, sweet flavor burning his tongue for a few seconds. He watched as Winry’s color slowly warmed to pink again. 

She moaned, letting her head slump back into the pillowed flattened against the headboard of their bed. “Can we not talk about food any more?”

For an answer, Ed scooted up next to Winry, letting her lean her head against his shoulder. He laid his hand on her stomach, rubbing it. “Sure. But if you start craving milk later, you have to get it yourself.” 

Making a face, Winry said, “No milk. But I might want some dill pickles, with garlic.” 

“Like from the general store in Risembool?” 

Winry snuggled closer. “Just like those. From a barrel. Dripping with vinegar.” 

“You do know it’s raining outside?” 

“Uh, huh.” Tilting her head up, Winry smiled. “You’d do that for me and your baby, wouldn’t you?” 

Ed rolled his eyes, sighing, and kissed her forehead. “Just for you.” He reconsidered. “Only for you.” 

Winry stretched to kiss him back. “You’re the best, Ed.” 

“Pickles?” 

“And ice cream.” Winry nodded.

“You’re so weird.” Ed hugged her tight, holding his family in his arms, while the rain fell down outside.


End file.
